What Might Have Been
by love2read20
Summary: What happens when an arrest goes horribly wrong and one member of the MCRT ends up in danger? One-shot. Warning: You WILL need tissues.


**Hi everyone! I'm love2read20. This is my first fanfiction story ever, so please be kind! That being said, I am always open to constructive criticism, and would love to hear any suggestions that you have.**

**This actually started out as part of a writing assignment for my language arts class. We had to write a poem with a theme of love. Well, all I could think of was NCIS that night, so I turned TIVA into a tragic love story.**

**Yes, for all my fellow TIVA shippers out there, you will definitely want some tissues handy while you are reading this. Just a warning! I actually teared up a few times while writing and revising this.**

**So without further ado, I present: **What Might Have Been

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or any of its characters. If I did, I'd be rich and Tiva would have existed a long time ago.**

* * *

It is supposed to be a routine arrest. A by-the-book and predictable arrest. So why was my gut feeling, my instincts that had never failed me, going insane with worry? For the moment, I simply tried to ignore it.

I look over my shoulder at Tony, giving him a nod to say, "Get ready." He simply flashes his Cheshire Cat smile, the one I have come to love so dearly. Counting to three and taking a deep breath, I kick down the warehouse door. We enter, guns raised, and prowl through the open space cautiously and quietly.

Then I hear it: the bloodcurdling screams emanating from a room down the hall. I throw caution to the wind and race towards the sound, hoping, praying, that I will make it in time. But when I reached the room, my gut churns like a blender, and I instinctively know something is not right. At first, I see nothing, but after moving deeper into the room, I see one of the criminals we were searching for.

"Federal Agents! Don't move!" I scream.

He raises his hands to surrender. Though it feels too easy, I lower my weapon, pull out my handcuffs, and approach him. He doesn't seem like the type of person to give in so easily, but I don't give it another thought.

That is, until I hear Tony scream my name.

I turn to him, but all I see is the blur of his body as he slams into me, knocking me to the ground. Before my body slams into the concrete floor and I am claimed by the darkness, my ears register the sound of two bullets leaving the chamber of their firearm.

When I come to, my brain first registers a warm, sticky substance spreading over my torso. I am well-acquainted with that metallic scent: the scent of blood and inevitable death. But I feel neither pain nor the typical symptoms that come with too much blood loss. I come to the only logical conclusion: that the heavy mass lying on top of me is the source of the blood. I push and struggle against the dead weight pinning me down, and eventually manage to roll it off of me. It is then that I get my first good look at it. But when I do, I wish I hadn't.

There lies Tony, his hands failing at stemming the flow of blood that gushes from two neat bullet holes in his torso. The sight of him lying there, too weak to move, cuts me to the core. I rapidly call for medical help, but I know it won't get here in time. Still, I put pressure on the wounds, hoping that my emergency medical training will buy him more time.

"Just hold on for me Tony," I plead.

But I can see in his eyes that he has already accepted his fate.

He is losing strength quickly, and it shows in his voice when he rasps my name. I glance up at him, trying to warn him to conserve what little energy he has, but he always was as stubborn as a mule.

"Need…tell…you" he rasps. "Bullets…meant…for you."

I am confused at first, until I recall the two gunshots that I heard when Tony knocked me down, and I finally realize what happened.

"You saved me," I whisper, my voice choking up as I speak. "Why?"

Through my tears, I can see him take a shuddering breath, and I know it is almost the end. But I need to know why he did it, or the question will plague me for the rest of my life. So I ask him again:

"Why? Why did you save me?"

He takes another shallow, shuddering breath and responds with the four words that will crush my soul for eternity:

"Because I love you."

I am too busy trying to comprehend his words that I don't notice his body's reaction right away. But I look up as I feel his hand grow heavy in mine.

"No," I whisper. "No no no no no. Come back to me, Tony."

I plead, beg, and pray, but there is no response. All I can do is scream and cry for the love that was lost too soon.

The ambulance arrives shortly after, but it is already too late. His skin is white as snow and cold as ice. I feel numb as they pull me away from his body. I have cried until there were no more tears and screamed until I can no longer speak.

I long to see his eyes, those brilliant blue eyes, that are always so full of life and sparkle as he laughs.

I long to see his smile, shining like a million diamonds as he cracks up at his own joke.

I long for one more moment with him, yet I know it can never be. And I have realized, too late, that he was the one, the only one I can and will ever love.

I look over my shoulder towards his body and whisper for the first and last time,

"I love you, Tony."

Then I walk away, trying to ignore the blood on my hands, the grief in my heart, and the thoughts of what might have been.


End file.
